


Locked In

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: First Aid, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: Brett doesn't know what he did to deserve being locked in a room with Daredevil.





	Locked In

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8773.html?thread=17780293#cmt17780293

Brett didn't really believe in fate or karma, but he was still certain that he'd done something awful to deserve being trapped in a room with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Although he supposed the guy's name was Daredevil now, like that was any better.

 

It was some sort of panic room that they'd gotten trapped in, but instead of locking yourself in to protect yourself from something outside, it was the other way around, where they'd gotten trapped inside. Together.

 

Brett spent the first five minutes poking at the walls, pulling the doorknob, and debating shooting the door to get out, but finally decided against it.

Daredevil just stood in one of the corners, head cocked slightly, arms held tightly at his sides like he wasn't sure what Brett would do.

Which was fair.

 

His radio and phone both didn't work, which meant he couldn't call for help. Surely someone would come looking eventually, but the only reason he'd found the room was because Daredevil pulled him in when the shooting started. Before that, he had no idea the room was even there.

 

Brett sighed. “Any ideas?” he directed towards Daredevil.

Daredevil shook his head. “The walls are solid, and there's some sort of field preventing radio transmission in or out. They're still shooting out there, which means no one will come looking for either of us for a bit, at least until it stops.”

Brett huffed. “Great. Why'd you drag me in here anyway?”

“You were out in the open with no cover when the shooting started. You'd have been shot, probably more than once if you'd stayed there. I didn't anticipate the door closing behind us, or us being unable to get back out. Panic rooms normally lock from the inside, not the other way around.” He frowned.

“Thanks I guess,” Brett said grudgingly. He still didn't like the guy, even if he'd saved him, and he sure as hell wasn't happy about being trapped in a room with him. Hell, he probably should be arresting him, but he didn't have the heart to do it, and wasn't above admitting it might not have been possible for him to do. The guy had moves.

“So what, we just wait for someone to find us and let us out?”

“I guess, yeah.”

 

Brett stared at the other man. The room wasn't well lit, but this was still the best look he'd ever gotten of the man. Most of the time he kept himself in shadows, hiding his face. Brett wasn't sure what he'd expected the man to look like, but he hadn't expected him to be so ordinary. So familiar, like he could be anyone you saw walking down the street. Brett wondered if this guy had friends, family, people who knew what he did, if they approved.

 

Brett was about to open his mouth and ask when Daredevil shifted and a flash of pain crossed his face before he smoothed it back to indifference.

“Hey, you okay?” Brett asked with concern. He didn't particularly like the guy, but he also didn't want him to bite the dust.

“I'm f-”

Daredevil didn't get to finish, presumably lying about how fine he was, because he sank to the ground, his legs just giving up and crumpling beneath him.

Brett was at his side in an instant, pulling on gloves and checking for blood. His gloves came back wet when he felt Daredevil's side, and he looked at the man with concern.

Daredevil attempted a smile, but it fell flat. “Just a graze,” he said. “But I didn't anticipate it bleeding this much.”

Brett swore, finding the hole in the strange material of the man's costume. It was small, probably from a bullet that had found its mark while he was pulling Brett out of danger.

He held pressure on it with one hand while rummaging through the tiny trauma kit that he'd been given. He'd never expected to use it, except for maybe the gloves, but pulling out the bandages, he was thankful he at least had something he could use.

Daredevil grimaced as Brett pressed the small gauze pads to the wound, and they were almost immediately soaked through. Brett swore.

“Didn't think that mentioning this would be a good idea?”

Daredevil shrugged. “Didn't think we were going to be trapped, didn't think it was going to bleed this much, didn't think you'd be happy about helping me...”

“Clearly you just didn't do much thinking,” Brett snapped. He dug in the kit for more bandages and pressed them on top of the first couple.

Daredevil smirked. “You're not the first person to tell me that.”

“So what if we weren't locked in here? You'd what, run off and get yourself patched up by some back alley butcher?”

“No,” Daredevil scoffed, sounding offended. “I have someone who helps with that sort of thing. Trained and everything.”

Brett hummed. “And what if you didn't make it to them? What if you collapsed in the street or on top of a building and bled out? What would happen when someone found you?”

“Why Sergeant Mahoney, I didn't think you cared.”

“I don't,” Brett snapped. “I don't like how you do things. I don't like how you act like you're above the law and can just do whatever you want.”

“The law fails people,” Daredevil said.

“And you think I don't know that?” Brett retorted. “I see that every day. Women who are continually abused by their partners, no matter how many times we're called to their house. Dealers who turn on their suppliers and get turfed back to the street to spread the same crap around, week after week. It sucks, and it's not fair, but it's not up to you to decide how to make it right.”

Daredevil tilted his head. “You sound like someone I know,” he said softly.

Brett pressed harder on the bullet wound (graze) in Daredevil's side, and the man winced.

“Really, I'm going to be fine,” he protested. “Just a graze. Didn't hit anything important.”

“Oh, you're a doctor now?”

“No,” Daredevil admitted.

“Then I hardly think you get to be the one to decide that,” Brett snapped. He was starting to feel antsy, trapped in a room with a dying vigilante while shooting went on all around them.

Daredevil hummed, turning his head to face the door. “They've stopped shooting,” he said suddenly.

Brett scoffed. “Right.”

“They're wondering where you are.”

Brett examined the man in front of him. There was no way he could hear outside the room. Unless he had some other way of knowing what was going on out there, he was either delusional or hallucinating, both of which could be due to the lack of blood.

“They're going to find you,” Daredevil said, reassuring Brett, which was a strange thing to be doing while he was bleeding out.

“Which means they'll find you too,” Brett told him. “How are you planning on getting out of this one.”

The thought might not have occurred to Daredevil, because he didn't respond.

Brett wished he could see more of the man's face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking or feeling without seeing more of his expression. He also couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. Hell, maybe he was unconscious now and Brett couldn't tell.

“Talk to me,” Brett ordered.

Daredevil tilted his head back to a more upright position, the dark eyes of his mask staring at Brett.

“About what?”

“Do I look like I care? Anything, so I know you're awake and mostly lucid. Where'd you get your costume made?”

“It's not a costume, it's a suit,” Daredevil said, offended.

“Whatever. Is there a place you vigilante types go for that sort of thing?”

Daredevil shrugged. “There might be. I have a guy though.”

“How do you get into a career as being a vigilante tailor?” Brett wondered.

“I don't think it's the sort of thing you plan,” Daredevil muttered. Brett got the feeling he was talking about himself too. He didn't think anyone grew up planning to be a masked vigilante with stupid horns, getting shot and trapped in a room with a police officer who would as soon arrest him as he would keep him alive.

Hell, he didn't exactly plan to be a cop when he was a kid, playing cops and robbers with Nelson was just fun, it was what kids did. And Nelson didn't turn out to be a cop or a robber, but a lawyer, which... might have been as bad as a robber, Brett wasn't sure.

 

The blood flow seemed to have slowed at least, and the latest bandage that Brett had piled on top of the others wasn't soaked through. Still, Daredevil didn't seem to be able to run any marathons, let alone make his way out of the room under his own steam, even if there weren't half a dozen cops waiting on the other side of the door.

And Brett. But Brett wasn't sure what he was going to do. He knew what he should do for his job, but he also knew how all the people around him felt about Daredevil, his mother, all her friends, hell, even his neighbours. Daredevil might have been breaking the law, but he was also doing a lot of good.

He supposed he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

 

Apparently he didn't need to worry.

As soon as the door opened, Daredevil threw something at the light above them, smashing the bulb and eliminating the only light source in the tiny room. While the officer who'd come to rescue them was scrambling for their flashlight, Daredevil disappeared from beneath Brett's hands. By the time the officer found their flashlight and illuminated the small room, Daredevil was gone and the door was once again closed, locking Brett back in.

Brett looked at the blood on the floor, then up to the ceiling and sighed.

Well, at least he didn't have to make any hard choices.

 

He hoped Daredevil was okay, but he told himself he wouldn't leave any sleep over it, since he was now locked in the same room again.

He sighed and waited for the next officer to come find them and let them out, assuming they hadn't all been knocked out by Daredevil on his way out of the building.

On second thought, he might still be there a while.

 

(Daredevil was sighted again a week later, foiling the robbery of an ATM. Hell, he might just have been right about the graze wound, since that was the only way he'd be able to be back out again so soon.

Or maybe magic. Brett wasn't ruling anything out.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been posting much lately because I've been working on big bangs, three of them in fact. So look forward to three longer pieces coming later on, with hopefully some short things like this one in the meantime.


End file.
